


The Way Love Hurts

by Gabracadabra



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Breakup Fic, M/M, but did I do it anyway?? Ye, is this necessary?? No
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 19:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabracadabra/pseuds/Gabracadabra
Summary: My interpretation of the break-up from Brock’s perspective.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	The Way Love Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Hi, it’s been a while! I swear I’m still working on my multi-chaptered fics but for now, I wanted to write this. So here ya go.

Brock was in love.

Correction.

He was cruelly, twistedly, obsessively, madly in love.

It was the kind of love that crept up on him in the middle of the day and brought his fingers to his phone to mindlessly check on the newest notification just in case it was him. The kind that made him daydream in the middle of his emails and hazed his mind further than any glass of wine or cigarette could ever manage. It was the kind of love that tangled itself so close that he didn’t realize he was suffocating.

And for a while, it was bliss.

The sweet words, the gentle touches, the love that poured from Jose’s eyes when they were alone together.

There was the constant sex, neither one missing an opportunity to have their hands roaming the other’s body—stroking, licking, sucking, kissing. There was the shameless way he would show Brock off, constantly on his lap and letting the older man’s hands rest over his thighs, his ass.

There were the quiet moments. The times where Jose would open himself so fully without prompt. The times when he would take Brock’s hand and kiss it gently before entwining their fingers together. The times when Brock would whisper promises and praise just to get Jose to smile.

There were the silly moments, the ones that brought Brock deeper, pushing him over the edge without even realizing it.

The times when Jose spoke so loudly and quickly that he couldn’t do anything but laugh. The times when they’d both start shouting at each other for no reason only to end up giggling on the couch. The one time when Jose decided to experiment with his makeup and they both ended up on the floor covered in glitter, Brock doubling over at the sight of Jose’s nose contour.

But even then, it didn’t feel quite right.

It didn’t feel quite like the love he saw in the romcoms they used to watch together, nor did it feel like the love that burned slowly and steadily over a lifetime.

It felt far too quick, too desperate, too volatile.

Months quickly passed and distance grew—both literally and figuratively. With every new city Jose traveled to, Brock was left to sit, to stew. At times, the only calls he would get from Jose would be tipsy  _ I love you’s  _ as club music played in the background, or calls from an airport at the most random times of the day.

Brock felt everything, his life transformed into a blank waiting game as he listened, watched, dreamt of Jose traveling, working, living the life he so desperately wanted but couldn’t have just yet. Maybe it was resentment, just a hint of it, that made him end the calls a little earlier, made him tune out of Jose’s rants over facetime and caused him to snap at the smallest things.

Soon enough, Jose caught on. They fought a little more often, each time weighing heavier on Brock, making it harder and harder for him to breathe, and god, he was still so in love.

But this time each fight, each angry word, twisted his emotions forcing him to carry them throughout the day. The haze in his mind, that was once lovesick joy, was filled with anxiety over each call—wondering if it would end in sweetness or in tears. The sex was desperate, an attempt to connect in the way words had failed time and time again.

And Brock was still too in love.

So in love that he hated it.

Resented the feelings that twisted his heart so tightly around the younger man. Hated the way he would find himself clinging to each text, waiting on each call and letting the inevitable silence shatter him. Scorned the void that was building in his chest, that he tried to fill with the numbness of tequila and nicotine.

And if this was love, he hated it.

But he couldn’t hate him, how could he?

With the way his voice softened when he said I love you.

With the way he fell asleep against his chest, his thumbs stroking Brock’s sides.

With the way he lit up every room and still insisted that Brock shined like the sun.

Brock couldn’t hate him, but he couldn’t be in love with him a second longer.

“I’m sorry.”

_ I love you. _

“I know we said we’d try, but I don’t think this is working.”

_ I don’t know how to love you. _

“Being independent is so important to me, you know that.”

_ I can’t handle loving you. _

“You deserve someone who can be there for you.”

_ I don’t recognize who I am when I’m in love with you. _

“You deserve someone that can love you right.”

_ I can’t be in love like you. _

“I will always be here for you.”

_ I can’t love you, _

_ because when I do, _

_ it hurts. _


End file.
